Mabel's Guide to Befriending Guardians
by MelissaeWrites
Summary: E. Aster Bunnymund does not trust Gravity Falls, not one whit. But he does trust Mabel.


A/N: I wrote this tiny ficlet about a year ago and really only posted it to my tumblr. I have an extended headcanon for a Gravity Falls/Rise of the Guardians crossover in which Jamie Bennett and Dipper Pines meet online on a cryptozoology forum and become fast friends. They talk about things like school and girls and how to keep dark, inhuman spirits out of your dreams! Uhhh.

Anyway, even though almost all my headcanon revolved around Jamie and Dipper, the only thing I ever actually scribbled down was a quick fic about how Mabel would obviously bond with Bunnymund. Who really knows why? Mabel is my muse. I'm not sure if I'll ever actually write my crossover, but in the meantime, there's always Mabel and Bunny.

* * *

E. Aster Bunnymund's first encounter with Mabel Pines had been a less than auspicious one. He'd barely noticed the boy with the book half as large as he was before the air had been split with an ear-piercing shriek, and a small, besweatered projectile had attached itself to him. Later he would learn that Mabel had a thing for all things fluffy.

She hadn't seemed particularly shocked to find the Easter Bunny in their yard in the middle of June, but her brother had informed him that really, they'd seen far, far worse. And Aster could believe it. Things didn't feel right there in Gravity Falls, Oregon. The grass whispered to him, as all grass did, but in a tongue he could not understand. The voiceless chatter was sibilant and oily against his ears.

For the first time in his life, Aster did not trust the words of plants.

However, he quickly came to trust Mabel. Her brother, well, that one could yabber on until the birds fell silent, but Mabel won him over with the first bejeweled egg.

"What's this, then?" he had asked her, picking up the egg she'd left on her windowsill. Glitter glue had smudged into his fur, and large plastic rhinestones fell off of it in clumps. It was iridescently tacky, like a rainbow caught and appropriated by a particularly clumsy toddler.

"It's an Easter Egg, _duh,_" she'd told him, rolling her eyes as if he really were the silliest giant talking rabbit she'd ever talked to, and from what he'd heard, that was entirely possible.

"It's _July_."

She'd huffed an exasperated sigh at him, stray glitter on her breath. "So? Who ever said Easter eggs have to be given out on Easter?"

"I say so," he'd said, giving her a meaningful look, "And I'm the Easter Bunny."

"Right," she'd said, making flapping motions towards the egg. "And so you're busy giving out eggs the entire day. But that means you never get any!"

"I don't need any," he'd said pointedly. "I've got yonks back in my warren."

She'd rolled her eyes at him again. Mabel really was good at making him feel like a kit again. "Everyone needs Easter Eggs, Bunny. They're like spring and hope and rainbows and happiness. _And you can eat them."_

He had gaped at her for a moment then, wondering how on earth this human child had managed to grasp so easily what had taken him centuries to sort out for himself. And then he'd taken the egg and placed it in his bandolier for safekeeping, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge her squeal of delight.

The eggs came with alarming regularity after that, and quite literally dripping with the kind of creativity he hadn't seen in his own work in years. She left him eggs with googly-eyed stickers and eggs that had been tie-dyed and wearing little yarn sweaters. He received eggs dyed with flowers and eggs dyed with permanent marker ink and eggs dyed painstakingly with wax resist and glitter. The only thing all the eggs had in common was that they were all bursting with personality–and they were all delivered with a shiny smile.

He didn't eat them, in the end. He kept a special place for them in his warren, where they were carefully preserved and displayed. Because she was right, really. Every year he worked his tail off making gifts for his believers, but this was the first time, the very first time, a believer had given him one in return. And with each new egg, tendrils of something young and new sprouted up around his heart, and slowly but surely he couldn't help but start to smile back whenever a new egg appeared on the windowsill.

(Not that he'd ever let Jack bloody Frost see.)


End file.
